comment – Page 9 – three good words

March 12, 2015March 16, 2015

true genius

I wrote this some time ago, during one of those bad moments when the realisation that I just was really truly absolutely ohmygoodness definitely not there yet was very real. Ah, but the great thing about great writers is that, never mind how they make you feel like last week’s left overs, writing-wise, they also help you know that it is possible to do better, be better, try your best. Reading their writing is, next to the great story, also this lovely gift: somewhere, somehow, someone was able to touch that thing that is divine and turn it into perfect word-gold. Terry Pratchett was one of them. Dear Sir (he was knighted), you’ll be sorely, sorely missed. You made so many people laugh and think and feel and laugh again so many times, the world has really lost a true genius today. Rest in Peace. Or as the Librarian would say:
Ook!

…

Gosh, if I could only come up with something like Überwald, Bess Pelargic, The Agatean Empire, 71-hour Achmed or the Octarine Grass Country. Or simply the Anthropomorphic Personification of the Ultimate Certainty, the Grim Reaper a.k.a. Mr. Door. Terry Pratchett is a genius, a real and true genius, though I still think Rincewind is complete and utter twerp. The Night Watch with Commander Vimes and Carrot Ironfoundersson + rag-tag band of misfits and miscreants, the Witches of Lancre + kingdoms and villages, Ms Aching and the Nac Mac Feegles, the University faculty + Librarian, and all the city Guilds + C.M.O.T. Dibbler, Mr Lipwig, Ms Dearheart and whatever new Scheme Moist von is up to, and then, of course, the Patrician with ever resourceful and loyal Drumknott, they’re all breathtakingly, mind-bendingly, side-splittingly fabulous – but Rincewind just puts me off. He really really really annoys me. The only great thing about Rincewind is The Luggage (Sapient Pearwood! Imagine! The madness! The magnificence!). Barely managed The Colour of Magic, and only because I sat through that ghastly mash-up of a movie. Afterwards I had to read it. Rincewind is that character who just makes you want to reach into the book and slap people, meaning him. Though some of the scenes with him in it are utter hilarity.

…

Oh and one more thing: Really, the Luggage. The Luggage. I dare you to come up with something as hilariously insane as the Luggage. Go on. Try it. I shall sink my reading teeth into it, promise.
j.d.

March 8, 2015

that is music

sometimes you need it
want it
must be it
that beat that rings through the bone

it’s always there
lingering just beyond
a silent rhythm
nascent in every song

there it is
that thump and clap
feet on the floor
hands off your lap
high up, together

no excuses
dance
dance!
together
you too over there
get up!
move it
shake it
groove it

and celebrate once more
this marvelous thing
that is music
that is joy
that is life
in a moment: forever
one
.

March 7, 2015March 16, 2015

words, spoken

funny, this expectation
this surprise.

why on earth
what made you think
you were the first one?

that you to me
are the first speaker
and i the first listener
in this little-large world of ours?

there have been others, you know
we each have lived our own lives
before this sudden together

there are histories to consider
moments watching
hours witnessing another
fudge and shift
and squirm in their seat
piling up half-truths, barefacedly
until they amounted to lies.

so, why this surprise?
why this annoyance, frustration
this sudden sulking at my silence
my lack of faith
in the words spoken
in these first creation days
of you and me and us?

why the accusation of reflex scrutiny
born of sentences heard
turned over once, twice
and, too often, found wanting?

i ask only for patience
while i practice mine
until you calm down
and find your way to words
that make sense
speaking of the you
you are
when you’ve brushed your teeth
and are bound for bed.

i ask only for ‘this was this
and that was that’
no maybe, could be, might have been, possibly
no ‘i didn’t know how to tell you
i didn’t know what to say’
speak, yes
explain, articulate
but truthfully
this is no virtual space
no hip little place
no bar, no party
no office, café

this is me
with you
in a first together
and what else is needed
than those words that speak of you
as you
living, being?

they are the ones worthy
to be listened to
answered
spoken.
© 2015 threegoodwords

March 2, 2015

inside/out

inside
toffee squared floors
denote rays of the sun, crossing
plants on the sills, watered
blooming bright to those
without, within

fingertips pressing cluttered keys
E and N already fading
triple m’s: memos, messages, mailing-lists
quick notes, live feeds
movie clips

in all the alphabets
known to woman, man
written, read
and used again

—

outside
cars rush far, park and run
jets and liners rolling
arrivals, departures
boarding, patrolling
vapor trails on asphalt

wind rising
sun-dimmed clouds
swelling with collected water
no more fears of acid rain
there is far more to worry about
these days
the news? don’t start
dante’s inferno’s nothing to that

click, swipe, push it away
the poor souls, so horrible
what are we having for dinner tonight?
what a long, exhausting day

—

inside/out
a moment, secluded
inhale, exhale
heartbeats tripping
excitement, peace
a stillness humming
beyond the din of the streets

sequins, cashmere
sheer wool, silk
plastic cards denote ownership
warmth, rest
eat, drink
ordered, structured
breathing

so many bodies moving
so many minds thinking
so many hearts, beating

all with one hope
that one true thing:
prosperity

March 1, 2015